


Rubbing it in his face

by FailureArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestor-Era, Cuckolding, Cum Inflation, Cum drinking, F/M, M/M, Netorare, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Unrequited Love, mild dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: Grand Highblood uses Darkleer's crush on the Huntress.





	Rubbing it in his face

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: ememtophobia

 

The Executor's kismesisitude with the Grand Highblood had been so pure at first. They'd argued over the jurisdiction between the Subjuggulators and the Archerdicators so many times that their relationship had naturally turned black. Yet over time Makara seemed to be getting bored with Zahhak. He couldn't get a rise out of the stoic troll. Neither physical nor psychological attacks worked. Zahhak didn't have enough emotion in his blood pusher to give to anyone and he knew it. He figured Makara would reject him like all the rest.

Then Zahhak met someone who truly moved his blood pusher. He didn't know if he felt red for her looks or pale for her unctuousness but he knew he loved her with all the emotions he could muster. Unfortunately, the Huntress was madly in love with the Grand Highblood. She was a devotee of the Mirthful Messiahs, though as an oliveblood she wasn't allowed to be a full-member. Instead, she attached herself to the Grand Highblood and he in turn was fond of the little peasantblood. They weren't a public couple (it took a long time for Zahhak to even know of her existence) but in private they were all over each other. The first time Zahhak met her was when he went to the Grand Highblood's private quarters. Makara was busy taking a shower so Zahhak was stuck making conversation with her. Since then, he'd only seen her from a distance through a doorway. The rest of her he knew from Makara or from rumors.

Zahhak was under no illusion he'd ever be with her. In their first meeting and truly only meeting, she hadn't seemed impressed with him. Zahhak didn't blame her. She had the Grand Highblood and needed no one else. From what Zahhak heard, she didn't have any other quadrants. The wildness that made her so tempting for pale also made her too proud for moirallegience. So Zahhak was resigned to love her from afar. Trying anything would led to painful rejection at best to violent reprisal at worst.

Yet it didn't escape the Grand Highblood's sharp think pan that his kismesis had a crush on his matesprit. Though Zahhak was immune to Makara's psychic powers, he couldn't completely control his outer reactions. He found himself smiling when her name was mentioned and when he heard she was injured on a mission he gasped. And even with Zahhak's goggles Makara could tell when Zahhak's line-of-sight was towards Makara's rapidly-dressing matesprit.

Though Makara had kept his matesprit a secret from his kismesis for a sweep, now he peppered his conversation with references to her, no matter how much of a stress the connection was. After each mention of her name, he'd pause and give Zahhak a knowing look. At first, the mentions were innocent, but they got more graphic over time. For instance, they were talking about moles in their respective organization and Makara mentioned that his Meulin had a mole just under her left rumblesphere. Zahhak would just say a flat “that's interesting” after each remark, though inside just the syllables of her hatchname made him swoon.

Then one day, as Makara had Zahhak flat on the platform, he asked out-of-nowhere, “You're all motherfucking infatuated with my dearest kitty bitch, ain't you?”

Zahhak couldn't speak until Makara asked again. On this, Zahhak replied, “Does it matter if I am or not? She'll never be mine.”

Though this answer wasn't a yes, Makara took it as one. From then on, he continually reminded Zahhak that indeed she would never be his. Insults directed at him took on new meaning when Makara used them to point out the reasons she'd never date him.

One night, Makara added a most grievous injury to his insults. Zahhak was in his exhaustionblock when his receptionist told him the Grand Highblood was in. Zahhak reluctantly let him in. The Grand Highblood burst in wrapped in a black cloak.

“Hello, your Mirthfulness,” Zahhak said as he pretended to read some papers.

“Whoop whoop, horse bitch,” Makara replied.

Zahhak looked up briefly. “I see it's too cold for your sensitive body.”

“Nah, the weather's hot enough to melt you. This garment is for concealing purposes.”

“Garments do generally conceal, as is their nature.”

Makara dropped the cloak and Zahhak looked up at the sound. The cloak had been concealing Makara's huge gut. His tight striped shirt wasn't capable of covering it. It was like he swallowed a headhoopsport ball.

“You've let yourself go,” Zahhak said, disguising his alarm at this new body change.

“More like Meulin let herself go.” He patted his gut. “See, sometimes when you got a loving thing like ours going, it's hard remembering them motherfucking buckets.”

Zahhak shuddered. “You're disgusting.”

“Don't go acting the prude now. You've been used as a bucket, boy.”

“But I relieved myself of inflation as soon as possible, not parade it around.”

“I was just too impatient to impart a visit on my favorite motherfucking sourspade.”

“Unfortunately, I'm too busy for your lewd jappery. I have business that her Imperious Condescension would hate to see left undone. Good night.”

Zahhak went back down to looking at his papers. He hoped Makara would leave. Instead, Makara went to his desk and swept off the papers off it.

“Excuse me!” Zahhak cried out, “That is imperial paperwork!”

Makara ignored these cries to sit sidesaddle on the desk. His hand reached out and rubbed the base of Zahhak's left horn. Zahhak found himself melting at this attention. The smell of fresh sex made him more aroused. Yet he tried to not show it.

“Please let go of my horn,” he said.

“But you like it, don't you?”

“I'd rather be working.”

“How about you work on your grand highblood?”

“I can do that on my free-time. Arrange a meeting with the secruterrory.”

Then Makara snapped the straps on his codpiece. Zahhak turned his head to see Makara take it off. As customary, he wore nothing under it. The smell of sex increased and this time it wasn't Makara's scent.

“Put that back on!” Zahhak yelled.

“Not until you help a motherfucker out.”

“You've already staked your lust with your matesprit. Go home and rest.”

Makara sighed. “Yeah, my Lin has worn me out. I should be recuperating. I don't think I could get the old bone bulge working. But then there's this -” He patted his gut. “Someone needs to drain me.”

Zahhak pointed to the door on the left. “There's a toilet over there.”

“And waste my dear oliveblood's well-earned love? I ain't gonna do that when there's a motherfucker that wants it so bad it HURTS.”

“I don't want it.”

“You wouldn't want to drink Meulin's genetic material? I do it all the motherfucking time. She loves it and always reciprocates the motherfucking favor.”

“However, I'm not in a concupiscent quadrant with her.”

“Oh, that's right. You're pale as a rainbow drinker for her. That makes a motherfucker more complicated, don't it?”

“I am not moirails with her either.”

“So it won't be awkward at all? Meulin ain't nothing to you, right?”

“That is true, but she's your matesprit.”

“I don't give a fuck. I can share her genetic material if it is my wont.”

“Does she approve?”

“Don't matter if she does. She ain't got ownership of it anymore.”

Zahhak didn't know if it was better that she didn't seem to know about this or not. He decided it would kill him if she did approve of this perversity.

“Come on,” said Makara, “I can't hold it in forever. Be a shame if I ruined this motherfucking fine desk.”

Zahhak sighed. “If it means you'll leave, I'll do this.”

“I knew you'd say yes, horse bitch.”

Zahhak pulled his chair back as Makara moved in front of Zahhak. Makara opened up his legs wide. His usually large bone bulge was only peaking out slightly but his seedflaps were shiny with lust. The nook was closed tight. Here and there were drops of green. Unlike blood, genetic material was bright. This was the first time he'd seen olive genetic material as oppose to blood. And these drops were Meulin's.

“Ain't you gonna start using that mouth of yours?”

Zahhak breathed in deep before putting his mouth over Makara's nook. The purpleblood nook was cold but all Zahhak could think of was Meulin's warm nook.

“Ready?” Makara asked.

Zahhak nodded. He wanted this over with.

Makara groaned so loud that Zahhak was afraid his secruterrory would hear. Those fears vanished when the nook opened and a torrent of genetic material came out. He'd drunk genetic material before but never the voluminous output of a lowblood. Though he'd taken a breath, he felt he needed another one but he couldn't breath. All he could focus on was swallowing the cloyingly-sweet liquid, so different from the salt of highbloods. His food sac just kept filling up. Eventually, the flow slowed down before it mercifully stopped. Still, there was plenty of liquid on the desk.

“Sorry about the desk,” Makara said, “Guess I underestimated how much a lowblood makes. You know, what they don't got in bulge size they make up in pail size.”

Zahhak was breathing heavily. His belly was as round as Makara's had been and it stretched out his body suit. The lump in his crotch didn't make things better.

“Seems you enjoyed it,” Makara said as he rubbed his shin against the bulge.

Zahhak caught his breath. “You couldn't have enjoyed it much given your sheathed status.”

“I told you, Meulin wore me out. If she hadn't, you bet your motherfucking pert ass I'd have you bent over this desk.”

“Too bad for you that you'll have to leave now.”

“And too bad for you.”

Makara scooted over to the side of the desk and got off. He stretched his back.

“Still,” he said, “Holding and releasing is motherfucking enjoyable. Gives a motherfucker a warm feeling. A very warm feeling in the blood.”

“Leave.”

“And fucking with your blood pump feels best of all.”

“LEAVE.”

Makara put back on his codpiece, though his nook was still wet.

“See you around, horse bitch.”

When Makara left, Zahhak put down some towels. He didn't stick around to properly clean. He went to his executive washblock and quickly self-pailed. Though he wanted to think neutral thoughts or at least think about his kismesis, instead he thought about his helpless crush filling him up with her genetic material. Afterwards, she'd rub his belly as if he'd simply eaten too much. The bright indigo came soon and drained into the toliet. He dropped to his knees and filled the toilet with olive.

Zahhak felt sick and not just because he'd thrown up. He laid on the floor of the washblock. He still had work but he couldn't bear to do it. To his surprise, he found himself crying. Not simply crying, but sobbing like a wriggler.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be kismesises with Makara anymore. Kismesises weren't supposed to hurt each other this way. They weren't supposed to bring in other quadrants. Yet Zahhak felt that somehow he deserved it. He shouldn't have coveted what was rightfully the Grand Highblood's. Despite it all, Zahhak didn't feel he could bear breaking up with Makara. How dare he do that to the Grand Highblood? He could only hope the Grand Highblood would dispose of him. If that meant death or exile, so be it.

After ten minutes, he got off the floor of the washblock. He cleaned himself up and got back to work.

A perigee later, the Huntress disappeared. The Grand Highblood acted as if she'd never existed. Zahhak believed this meant Makara had grown tired and killed her. He privately mourned her death. Later, he saw an eye-witness portrait of her on a Wanted poster. This fervent but unfulfilled follower of the Mirthful Messiahs had become the chief Disciple of a heretic. She was lost from the Empire.

Then he saw her again in person.

 

 


End file.
